


On the Road

by lisa_plant4



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisa_plant4/pseuds/lisa_plant4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The result of a writing exercise. A day in the life of our boys...</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Road

**Author's Note:**

> Then...
> 
> April 19th 2013 at the Phoenix Square. Creative Writing night for Star Base Leicester. The task; think of a word for each letter of the alphabet and then use them to write a story.  
> I chose:  
>  Azazel, Baby, Castiel, Dean, Emerald, Family, Ghost, Hunter, Idjit, Jello, Kill, Love, Metallica, Ninja, Orange, People, Queen, Rope, Sam, Tomorrow, Umbrella, Violence, Wendigo, X-Ray, Yellow, Zombie.  
> This is what resulted.

On the Road by Lisa Marie Plant

Now...

SAM sighed.  
As much as he LOVEd his brother, and he did love his brother, there was nobody more likely to drive him to homicide. Currently, said big brother was playing the A side of Led Zepplin IV for the sixth time in a row that morning at a volume that would’ve made Thor, the God of Thunder wince. Sam, his brain almost literally dribbling out of his ears at this point, was rapidly reaching the end of his patience.  
“Dean! You are the only FAMILY I have, it would really suck, if you actually forced me to off you!” He snapped.  
“Jeez, Sammy, what crawled up your ass?!” Dean asked, actually looking surprised that anyone could possibly find flying down a highway on a bright spring day with Zepplin blaring less than pure heaven.  
Dean’s honest confusion and concern instantly made Sam regret his sudden outburst. He knew, if he was honest with himself, that his irritability stemmed from far deeper issues, his fears about his destiny, his worries about what AZAZEL had planned for him, the still fresh pain of the loss of his father... All were reasons more valid than the atrocious musical taste of his brother. However, Sam didn’t reveal any of this, it would only cause Dean to worry, well, to worry even more than he did naturally, and Dean already knew all of that anyway.  
“Sorry,” Sam sighed, “It’s just... I mean... Is there any chance we could maybe listen to something recorded in this century? You know, for once? The back catalogue of mullet rock you call music is giving me a migraine.”  
Dean watched him for a moment from the corner of his eye, clearly weighing up the truth in that statement. Sam doubted his big brother was fooled, but thankfully Dean’s only response was to mutter “Bitch” and eject the tape.  
Sam smiled gratefully and responded with the required “Jerk”. After a few moments of strained silence he cleared his throat and asked,  
“So... Uh, where are we anyway?” He’d lost track, what with the monster brooding session and all.  
“Colorado. Figured we’d head west awhile.” Dean replied with a shrug. They didn’t have a particular hunt to head towards at the moment, but neither of them much felt like sitting around in a motel room twiddling their thumbs.  
“Colorado? Huh. Haven’t been through here since... the WENDIGO at Blackwood Ridge...” Sam tailed off, suddenly swamped by memories of Jessica and the rage and despair he’d felt in the weeks and months following her untimely death. God, he was feeling maudlin today. He coughed slightly, shifted in his seat, and decided to make a real effort to shake off his dark mood.  
Not failing to guess exactly where his little brothers train of thought would have brought him Dean made a valiant attempt to distract him. “So TOMORROW, I was thinking we could just chill, you know, find a place to hang out, preferably one with beer on tap, see if we can’t scrounge up a hunt... Gotta be something out there needs ganking.” He offered with a patented smirk. Sam smiled genuinely in return. “Sounds good to me, man.”

That night, Dean was sitting on one of the QUEEN sized beds in their latest motel room, routinely cleaning and checking their weapons. Sam had stationed himself at the table by the window where he was using his laptop to peruse several websites in hopes of finding their next job.  
“Anything?” Asked Dean, raising his eyes from the pistol he was presently dismantling.  
“Er... Some PEOPLE in California died recently of suspected food poisoning... could be suspicious...?”  
“Oh please.” Dean interrupted dismissively “Probably some new hipster diet that some stick thin starlet has turned into the latest fad.”   
Sam tended to agree. “Yeah, I suppose, and besides, no way in hell am I letting you ROPE me into working as a P.A. again, paid slavery.” Sam gave a dramatic shudder.  
“Uh-huh, but oh man, the side benefits...” Dean said with a chuckle. Sam rolled his eyes and decided to stop his brother before he got too lost in his fond remembrance of actress Tara Benchley and caused Sam to resort to VIOLENCE to avoid his brother’s lewd retelling. “Dont! I really don’t need another edition of the sexcapades of Dean Winchester, I already know more than I ever wanted too!” This, of course merely caused Dean to laugh all the harder. Sam was holding up his hands, as if to physically ward off his brother, and Dean kept smiling as he continued the weapons maintenance and Sam returned to his research.  
Sometime later it was Sam who disturbed the quiet of the motel room this time. “Uh, Dean, think I found a case... Looks like the dead are disappearing from their graves... We got zombies in Seattle.” At this Dean’s eyes lit up and he smiled at Sam.  
“Cool”.

Early the next morning, after checking out of the EMERALD Inn and heading for Seattle, Sam was quickly lulled back to sleep by the familiar motion of the car. Hours later he was awoken by Dean throwing a half-full bag of M&M’s at him. “Dude! It’s a two day drive to Washington and already the boredom is KILLing me. If you won’t let me play my music, you could at least have the decency to stay awake!” Dean whined impatiently.  
However, despite Sam’s rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing, he couldn’t fail to notice the worry emanating from his brother. The nervous glances giving testament to the attempt at deflection those words had been. Sam had been having another nightmare, one about Azazel, the YELLOW Eyed Demon. Well, Sam consoled himself, at least it hadn’t been another premonition.  
Dean was clearly waiting for a response so Sam forced himself to reply. “What you want me to do, find you a couple of girls and a vat of JELLO?” He muttered sarcastically, knowing that that would be the sort of retort that would allow Dean to relax his ‘big-brother’ mode.  
“Well, now that you mention it...” He smirked. “C’mon Sammy, it’s all good, Zombies, man! And this time I promise not to use you as bait.” DEAN grinned. Sam couldn’t help but respond to his brother’s enthusiasm and smiled even as he shook his head.  
“Gee thanks, Dean! You know, you’d never use the Impala as a lure.” Sam pointed out rolling his eyes. Dean looked appropriately aghast at the mere notion.  
“Whoa! Hold on now, risk my BABY? Not happening!” He protested patting the dashboard in a soothing manner, as though the car might be rattled by Sam’s words. Sam sighed and shook his head, nice to know his brother had his priorities straight!  
“You know, if there really is an army of the undead rising in Seattle, we could probably use some help, you know, some other HUNTERs?” Sam suggested.  
“Hell, we could order up a horde of NINJAs and we’d still be at a disadvantage Sammy, we just have to hope we get there before this whole thing really kicks off.” Replied Dean grimly.   
“Yeah, still, be nice to have back-up for once. Sure you don’t wanna give Bobby a call?” Sam asked, hopefully. Since John had passed, Bobby was becoming a permanent fixture in their lives, the Singer Auto Salvage Yard was, outside of the Impala, the closest thing they had to a home. And Bobby was always happy to help them whenever he could.  
“Nah, he’s busy with his own case, remember? That haunting in Minnesota? Boy, wouldn’t want to be that GHOST!” Dean said with a chuckle, thinking fondly of the older hunter. “’Sides I can hear him now ‘Who do you think I am, Bruce Campbell? Ya IDJUTs!’”   
Dean’s impression of the grizzly ol’ hunter made Sam bust out laughing and for the first time in days he felt some of the weight lift off his shoulders, a little of the darkness leave his soul. He looked fondly at his often exasperating elder brother, and thought to himself, God alone knows where I’d be without him...

A week later Sam sat with his brother in the Sacred Heart Hospital in Seattle, he couldn’t quite believe it. What was it with zombies damaging his left wrist?! He hoped he didn’t need to be in a cast again, like last time, but they wouldn’t know until the doctor brought then the results of his X-RAY. Dean sat beside him, listlessly flicking through a car magazine he’d found in the waiting room. He’d finally stopped laughing at his little brother’s misfortune and was now waiting impatiently with him for the results, refusing to leave Washington until Sam received any and all medical care he might need, and Mr Reynold’s (they’re latest alias) insurance details could pay for.  
Sam tapped his foot, already sick of staring at the pale green walls, and shifted uncomfortably in the plastic ORANGE contraption this hospital had the nerve to call a chair, which was, as usual, far too small to seat his six-foot-something frame comfortably.   
“Stop fidgeting already, Sammy.” Growled Dean. “If you wouldn’t insist on getting yourself thrown around by every damn supernatural creature we run into, we wouldn’t be here!” He muttered, no more at ease than his little brother and unable to resist rubbing it in one more time. Well, he was Sammy’s big brother, came with the territory.

As they left the hospital, sans cast but with a bag full of painkillers that were bound to make his baby brother loopy, Sam was a notorious lightweight, after all, Dean realised that at some point the month of April had decided to live up to all the hype and it was now throwing down the proverbial cats and dogs.  
People with UMBRELLAs hustled by, in a hurry to start work, visit loved ones, or just seek shelter from the rain. To hell with that he thought, and made a dash for the impala, knowing instinctively that Sam would be right on his heels.  
Waiting out the rain, just wasn’t the Winchester way. They’d rather face it head on, as long as they could do so together.

Unbeknownst to either brother, they were being watched, curiously, by a pair of angelic eyes. CASTIEL didn’t understand why he was drawn to check in on the Winchesters from time to time, but something in his gut, made him wonder whether these two, didn’t in fact, have a much greater destiny ahead of them than anyone knew. As the Impala blew by, METALLICA screaming from inside, Cas reminded himself that he had duties to attend to and would likely never see the Winchesters again.


End file.
